


on love and war

by Honora



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: F/F, I Don't Even Know, based off 80's batman, canon fighting over a man (for a bit), faint fear of rape?, faint mentions of past almost-murder, fainter still mentions of bruce/selina, hmm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-08
Packaged: 2018-02-03 20:14:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1756045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Honora/pseuds/Honora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know,” Vicki starts one day over breakfast, between sips of coffee, when Julia’s legs are thrown over hers. “For the product of a hostile competition for a man’s affection, this could really be a lot worse.”<br/> <br/>At first is all about Bruce, because everything seems to be, in Gotham.<br/><br/>Until one day, it's not.<br/><br/>One day, it's all about them.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	on love and war

**Author's Note:**

> I have this thing lying around half complete since i read Jason's pre-crisis run, and hearing the news about Julia's return in Batman Eternal inspired me to finish it, so i figure it's now or never. Some has changed from the comics, depending on whether i remembered it.

When Vicki first meets Julia, it takes her .3 seconds to write her up as another girl vying for Bruce’s attention.

She doesn't think she’s so, clearly, but then, neither did Vicki, at first. It’s the thing about Bruce, really. Not the money or the good looks or the charm, though none of that necessarily put anyone down, but the way he got under the skin, made you care. Feel cared for.

Julia might say she’s there only to meet her dad as much as she wants, and believe it. Vicki knows better.

Besides, she’s too _neat_. From the sensible, elegant clothes to the perfect posture, the shoulder length hair and the soft French accent, Julia Remarque – or Pennyworth or whatever it is she’s calling herself – is far too perfect, like a picture of a woman rather than a flesh and blood person.

Vicki tosses her short red strands away from her eyes, smooths a crinkle in her dark green suit skirt and turns her nose.

Personally, she feels plenty entitled to dislike Julia. It’s a gut reaction; no one likes the person standing in the way of what they want. And Vicki has always been determined to get what she wants. First it was independence, a career in journalism, renown as a photographer and an editor’s chair at Picture News. She got all of that.

If she wants to marry Bruce Wayne, by god, she’ll do that too.

But hey, at least Julia doesn't seem inclined to try and kill her, so far. Puts her well above Catwoman.

If only everyone would be so thoughtful.

. . . .

“She’s very… nice.” Julia sounds flat to her own ears. She’s unimpressed with herself. Really, she can do better.

Her father doesn't seem very impressed either, not that he would ever outwardly show it.

“Miss Vale is a most interesting woman, to be sure, but ‘nice’ isn't quite the word most commonly used to describe her. Intense, I should think. Driven. Intimidating.” he raises a brow at her.

Two can easily play that game, so she simply raises one back. At least now she knows where she got the skill from – neither Jacques nor her mother could do it.

“I don’t know about _intimidating_. Though I agree she seems dedicated to her… goals.” she pauses for a moment. Her father gives a small cough. “I wish she would not see me as an obstacle to said goals, however. She could be fun to talk to.”

Or to go out with, sometimes, she thinks. Anywhere. Julia still doesn't know anyone in the city but her father, a boy and a man she hardly sees at all. She could use the company.

She misses socializing. In France, she had her friends constantly around and freedom to move. She used to go out every weekend, even if it was just for a lone walk on the park. Here, no one’s stopping her but no one’s offering to come with either, and she doesn't even know how to get to the park, plus nothing she’s heard of the security Gotham offers unaware newcomers has made her want to brave the city and find out.

“Perhaps in time she will see you as Master Bruce’s extended family, rather than a rival for his time and attention, as it’s the case with Master Jason.”

“I would hope so,” Julia curls a strand of her dark hair around her finger, an aggravated gesture she has tried to quit before. “I don’t need the trouble, frankly. I didn't come here to meet Bruce Wayne.”

Her father only smiles and places a hand on top of hers, and it’s strange but nice, having a father again, even if she has to learn him from scratch. It’s what she came here for. A whole new life and a whole new chance.

And it would be good to _settle_ into said new life, and better still if Vicki Vale wouldn't make it harder for her.

. . . .

It takes a month, give or take. A single month for Julia Remarque to go from reluctant competition to outright opponent. As usual, trade instincts haven’t failed her, and Vicki knows she’s right the moment Julia takes the bait and responds to one of her insinuations, instead of angrily deflecting it.

Never let it be said Vicki Vale couldn't fish.

But at least she’s not living with Bruce anymore. Vicki knows this because Julia herself told her, when she asked for a job at Picture News.

(Vicki was reluctantly impressed, to be honest. The woman has guts.)

It would have been easy to say no, of course. It’s not like Vicki wants to have Julia under her nose all the time. But Bruce or no Bruce, it isn't Vicki’s policy to deny someone a job opportunity when they needed one, especially when it was another woman trying to make it into the boys’ world. She hasn't forgotten what that is like, after all.

And Julia has potential. At the moment she’s a desk clerk, but eventually she’s going to make it into reporter, if that’s what she wants. Vicki sure isn't going to stop her.

Besides, keep your friends close and all that. It played a part too. Most likely.

Not a very rewarding one, mind. If the idea is to get information on Julia and Bruce’s relationship, than the mission is a failure. His name hardly came up at all. Even on the times they aimed pointed comments at each other, it was never about him, although he was the cause of it. And even that hardly ever happened. There are places for such things, and the place of their employment isn't one of them.

They do get at it once, right in front of Bruce. It’s… Childish, for both of them, but also kind of thrilling. Julia knows how to turn a phrase, how to spit barbs so subtly you hardly notice them consciously. And she isn't afraid of playing dirty either, matching Vicki blow by blow (she’s going to be a great reporter soon enough, the journalist in Vicki notices). Measuring wits with her is a rare challenge.

At some point Bruce walks away.

Neither of them notices it.

. . . .

Vicki Vale at work is a machine. Julia had honesty not prepared for that, although she had figured Vicki had to be hardworking is she’s editor that young. And she is young, not much older than Julia herself.

But Julia only knows this because she was told so. She wouldn't have guessed, watching Vicki from the time she clocked in to the end of her very long overtime sessions, that her boss could still be around twenty. Not that she _looked_ old. But the way she darted in every day like a bee, never slow or tired, laying orders and making comments and exchanging pleasantries with several different people at once, it all spoke of the experience of years.

Which, she had, Julia supposed. She checked. Through the years of her career, Vicki has dabbled in everything from local gossip to international affairs. She probably has some tales to tell.

Not that she would share them with Julia, but. She wouldn't mind listening, is all. She has always been a sucker for a good story.

And she’s so good at her job, with the kind of hard edge skill sharpened in years, leaving no argument when she makes a call. Like the one she makes to give Julia her first real article. Though she has never worked in a journal before, Julia had imagined people would argue such a decision. She has only been a front desk girl for two months, after all. But no one does. Not with Vicki’s approval.

It’d all come by so suddenly, though. Maybe everyone else is just having the same problem adjusting Julia is.

“They liked your story on Mr. Freeze, but they think you’re too green to write it.” Vicki had announced, stopping by Julia’s desk one morning, lips pursed but not at her. It was sudden enough for Julia, who had been distracted with work, to take a moment to notice she was being addressed.

“I…” what could she have said to that? It wasn't fair? But wasn't it? She wasn't a professional yet, had no real experience. No one started from the top. Still stung, but hadn't everyone been there before? “That’s a shame.”

Vicki had huffed, sitting at the edge of the desk. “It’s not a shame, it’s ridiculous. The story was good. And it wasn't a major piece. Honestly, a newspaper that refuses to give new talents a chance…” she shook her head in apparent disgust to all new vehicles across the globe. “I couldn't stop them from pulling you out, but I called in some favors. You are now officially a writer for the best photographic paper of Gotham City. Congratulations. You can cry now, if you like.”

Julia stared. Vicki smiled.

“It’s no great gig, but you get to cover any small calamities that pop up from now on. And your very own cubicle. Be sure to leave the stapler here for the next clerk.”

Julia had chosen to ignore the last bit. “Are you really so prepared for a disaster to hit that you keep a reporter just for that?”

“It’s Gotham,” Vicki had shrugged. “Something’s always bound to come by. My advice: get to the locals early or all the good interviews will be taken.”

And she left before Julia could even say thank you.

But there are better ways to show her gratitude, she decided that same day. She thinks she can do the job, and so does Vicki. The best way to thank her for the opportunity is to prove her right. Vicki will enjoy that more than simple words, Julia thinks.

She’s putting her faith in Julia. She isn't going to be let down.

Neither of them will.

. . . .

“This isn't quite what I had in mind,” Vicki says. Julia bites her lip, worrying the collar of her elegant blouse between her fingers. Under the sun coming from the open window, it looks like silk against her hand. Vicki has got to remember asking Julia where she shops. Their styles may be different, but the _quality_ of Julia’s clothes…

“I understand. I meant to be objective, but then I met that woman,” Julia’s voice drips with resentment, something Vicki can easily relate to. Olivia Ortega, and her merry band of television fools, cause that reaction in anyone involved in the printing of the written word. “And I don’t know what came over me. I got thinking of TV journalism and newspapers and… I forgot the main theme.”

Her voice is steady and unapologetic. She recognizes she hasn't done the job asked of her, and she owns up to that. Vicki is once against impressed by Julia’s steel spine.

But really, she isn't surprised. Olivia has an amazing talent to get others thinking, even if it is in an effort to find a rebuttal that doesn't lead to physical violence.  
Julia sighs. “I’m sorry I wasted this opportunity. I’ll rewrite the article.”

“What for?” Vicki asks, leaning back on her chair. “This is good. You sound sympathetic to the victims, and not disrespectful when you change the subject. You dealt with it well. Of course, you need practice. For starters, on working with the allotted space, and you need to adjust your pace a little. But for a first piece, this works.”

“You liked it?” Julia looks surprised. She must have been expecting a tear down. Might have feared for her job, even.

Vicki makes her voice as kind as she knows how. “There was a fire in an apartment building. That’s what every news channel and paper has reported. We have something else, and something worth the readers’ time. Getting the scope before the next guy, Julia. That’s the job. Or, at least, a big part of it.”

Julia straightens on her sit, looking like Vicki just brought her Christmas, which is simultaneously nice, adorable and disconcerting.

“You want me to keep going?”

“Oh, yes. And soon. I have some human interest pieces set for you already.”

“Human interest?” Julia visibly deflates.

Vicki chuckles. “You’ll graduate to serious news eventually.”

And when she does, they can play with the subjective aspect of her pieces. Maybe have her interact more with the readers. Or put Julia’s pieces against the dry facts version of the same story. Maybe get Kara to write those, she’s good with adapting her style to different stories. Jaime could photograph, if it’s not too much of a strain, she has been bored to death since her maternity leave started. Or something else, maybe, Vicki needs to sit on this idea for a while. But she knows one thing: the end result will be something you can’t find on TV.

Take that, Ortega.

Julia seems to understand Vicki is no longer with her, and moves to leave. But she pauses at the door.

“Hey, Vicki? Thanks.”

Vicki hums her agreement, distracted. She doesn't turn to see Julia leave, too caught up in planning and plotting. She doesn’t see her walk out.

Or her smile.

. . . .

Julia’s phone starts ringing around eight. She had planned to call in an early night and retire to bed with a book, and at first, she valiantly tries to ignore it. Eleven insistent rings later, she gives up.

“Gear up,” Vicki says, without saying hello. “We’re going hunting.”

Julia isn't thrilled. She has trained herself into raising red flags whenever Vicki sounds that excited.

“Pardon me?” she replies, voice flat and toneless.

She can _feel_ Vicki rolling her eyes.

“You heard me. Come on, chop chop. There’s a panther loose in downtown Gotham, I’ll be there in five.”

“I- No- You know I hate it when you do that!”

But she’s talking to empty air; Vicki has already hung up.

Julia can tell a lost cause when she sees one, so she goes to dress herself, muttering about mad redheads and _reporters_ in the familiar French words she wasn't allowed to use in polite company, growing up.

 

“Is this necessary, Vicki?”

“Do you want to be ahead of the curve or not?”

Julia shakes her head, exasperated, pulling her coat closer to herself. They had stayed in the car for as long as she had been able to persuade Vicki to sit down and act normal, but eventually she had decided to continue the chase on foot, to see the places they couldn't access with the car.

In winter.

At night.

For some reason that eludes her, Julia is along for the ride.

“Of course, but I don’t see why I have to die for it.”

“You won’t die, you coward. Am I dead? And look at how long I’ve been doing this.”

Julia rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Grandmother.” Vicki tries to swat her. “But even you must see that chasing a dangerous wild animal at night in this city is tempting fate.”

“I see nothing,” Julia considers pulling at Vicki’s hairdo, but her wrist is grabbed before she can try. “Someone’s coming.”

It’s baffling how Vicki can make that sound like a good thing.

It turns out to be a group of men, the Skull Smashers, a known gang, which makes her throat tight. Even more when they insist on accompanying them.  
She doesn't like it. Gang or not, they are men and she – She’s not, and she’s scared. There are five of them and they’re rowdy, could possibly be on something and she wouldn't know, and it’s Gotham at night and they are two ladies out alone. She doesn't like it at all.

She knows Vicki is as nervous as well, maybe not quite as much as Julia (a product of having no self preservation instincts), by the hand still clutching at her wrist. And Vicki almost never gets nervous, not even a little, so watching her makes Julia feel even worse. If push comes to shove, what can they do to protect themselves? They aren't one of Gotham’s famous _femme_ _fatales_. They are two young reporters with no defense training and no weapon but all the bravado they can scrounge up. They can’t prevent anything, can’t protect themselves. They can run, maybe, but could they _outrun_ them?

Julia just wants to go home. Vicki would come too. They can open a bottle of wine, make chocolate fondue and watch TV until they pass out. That would be perfect.

Of course, when the only thing to drive their escorts away is the roar of the dangerous cat loose in the city for the night, she isn't exactly relieved. Well, she is, a little, but it’s a knee jerk reaction – she knows they just went from the pot into the frying pan.

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” she breathes.

The last time she has seen a panther was at eleven years old, on the zoo with Jacques. From far away, holding on to his hand, the cat had seemed sleek and beautiful and deadly, and little Julia had wished he could get closer.

As it turns out, they are much the same from up close, but the last thing she wants is to get closer.

There’s debris on the alley around them, perhaps remains from the last failed urban renovation project. Julia doesn't care; she blindly reaches down for a brick, backing up against the wall, pushing Vicki, who has frozen still, behind her. The panther growls at her from so very few feet away. Vicki squeezes her hip painfully.

Julia hasn't prayed since Sunday school. She does now.

“Julia. Julia, _Julia_.” Vicki’s voice is faint on her ears, but she’s insistent. Julia tries to push her off, busy facing down the panther, her makeshift weapon raised in her hand. Vicki doesn't stop.

Soon Julia understands why.

“Don’t you _dare_ harm the panther,” a new voice, an angry female voice, calls from above them. The cat seems to calm slightly at the sound of it, and Julia slowly raises her eyes.

To find the Catwoman glaring at her form the fire escape.

. . . .

Vicki has been here before.

She has been in so many death defying situations in her life, due to her career, but only once has she been targeted not because of the camera, but because of herself. Only once, and it was facing this same woman, this deadly masked woman. It’s the one time Vicki can’t snap back from.

She’s been here before.

Maybe she should have stayed away from the hot news, this once. She knew Catwoman hunted with a panther, and she made the connection when she heard of a loose one terrifying Gotham. But she’d thought Catwoman was out of town. Keeping away from the city, at least for a while.

And now there she is.

Julia freezes in front of her, the brick still raised in one hand, and Vicki is the one to reach forward and push it down. No reason to piss off the lady with the whip even more. Especially since Julia has also been involved with Bruce Wayne, and that has been proved to be enough reason for Catwoman to attack, because apparently nothing good was ever going to come from that relationship. Vicki doesn't know how the Catwoman would know that, but she doesn't doubt that she does.

The other woman, however, doesn't make any move to strike. Just watches as the brick is lowered, eyes narrowed.

“Leave,” she says once that’s done, leaping from her perch to stand between them and the cat. “I don’t want your publicity. I only want my pet.”

Julia nods like that’s a very reasonable idea, and it probably is, but before Julia can drag her away, the words are already leaving Vicki’s mouth, a trained reflex to a story being so close.

“Why did you let it get away? When did you get back to Gotham?” she takes a hard look at the cat for the first time, having been too distracted by its Mistress earlier, and it doesn't look well. Vicki has seen it before, she knows what it looks like in prime health, and this isn't it. “What happened to it?”

Catwoman snarls at her. “I _said_ I don’t want you publicity, you-”

Things don’t have time to turn ugly, though, if they were going to, because just then there’s a batarang flying their way and Batman and the kid are there, larger than life at the mouth of the alley.

From there on is a wild progression of events and Vicki has every single bit of it scorched on her memory, but she doesn't _want_ to remember it, not really. She doesn't want to see the panther – Diablo, his name was Diablo – dying again, she doesn't want to see Catwoman jumping from the plane again, doesn't want to see the grenade going off and Batman walking away like the world had just gone dark.

They got a story. An amazing, exclusive one. She isn't looking forward to write it.

All through it, Julia is at her side, and once everything is said and done, she stays there. A hand on Vicki’s shoulder for both their comforts, away from the airport, into the car and to Vicki’s apartment. Both silent, processing what they saw, but – it’s good. It helps.

If there’s nothing else to hold on to, at least they got each other.

. . . .

“ _Bien_ ,” Julia says, dropping boneless on Vicki’s couch. “This has been…”

“Agreed,” Vicki sits beside her. She shrugs one shoulder, dejected. Julia isn't used to seeing her like this. It’s unsettling.

“Hell of a story, though,” she says, hoping it might get her a smile, at least. But Vicki just huffs a small breath that is more like a sigh, and looks away.

“Glad to know your priorities are all sorted out,” she says, curling her legs underneath her.

They could try talking about it. But Julia is pretty sure they aren't doing that, aren't discussing the night, at least not yet. Maybe never, but definitely not tonight. Except she doesn't know what else she can say, and the apartment falls silent.

Is not uncomfortable. Or heavy, it’s just… Quiet.

Eventually Vicki gets herself together enough to decide she doesn't actually want to spend the last few hours before dawn in silent reflection.

“Let’s have ice cream,” she announces, slapping Julia’s knee before getting up.

“Cream?” Julia follows her, stopping to see her reflection at the hallway mirror. She looks pale and exhausted and her hair is a mess, but she’ll be better after she’s had some sleep. For the moment, she pulls her hair into a bun and goes for the sugar.

“No,” Vicki answers from the kitchen. “But I got strawberry. And sprinkles.”

Because of course Vicki knows what type of ice cream she’ll eat and what type she’ll refuse. They had that argument before, when working late on an article. Compared favorites. Vicki knows Julia likes her sweets simple, and Julia knows Vicki prefers hers as everything with everything on top. She should maybe be more surprised that Vicki remembered, but she isn't.

She isn't surprised _she_ did.

Julia sits on one of Vicki’s stools and crosses her legs. Lifts her chin for good measure. “I hate sprinkles.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Vicki is dropping large quantities of pink ice cream into a bowl. Julia stills her hands with one of hers.

“Enough, for crying –” Julia leans back with her ice cream, because Vicki is looking at her weird, and from this close she can see how blue her eyes are. She coughs. “How can you even taste anything with all these flavors mixed, anyway?”

There are several colors already starting to melt into each other on Vicki’s own cup.

“Are you mad because yours is boring?” she licks the spoon with a self satisfied expression, and Julia _does not_ stare.

“It’s a _classic_. You would enjoy it if your taste buds weren't impaired.”

She would say more in the defense of her chosen flavors, but Vicki is laughing at her and she’s laughing back and it’s so _good_ , that they can do that. She feels heavy even now, but it’s like a weight has lifted already. She needs normal, after the night they had, and this is normal for them.

Well, almost normal.

Except the light from the rising sun brings out the red of Vicki’s hair…

And Julia doesn't know what’s happening to her.

Their slow conversation doesn't feel awkward, but Julia does, and she could never handle that well. There’s a reason why she resolved to eliminate the feeling from her repertoire when she thirteen, and why she stuck to the decision. But it’s crept back in, and Julia is babbling before she can stop herself.

“This is nice, you know. I mean, quite nice. Like two friends. Which, we are,” she adds hastily, because it’s very important that Vicki knows that. If she’s going to run her mouth, she will at least do it without hurting Vicki’s feelings. “But I didn't think we could be. At first. Since, you know, you hated me a lot. And I could have behaved better, too, I suppo-”

“Have I ever apologized to you for that?” Vicki interrupts her, which, finally, it was about time, and also, wow. Julia can’t believe they are going to have this conversation. They never talked about it, not like adults. Hardly breached the subject at all after they decided they liked each other.

The real answer is ‘no’ but that doesn't feel like the _right_ one. “You don’t have to,” feels much better, but Vicki shakes her head.

“I do. I shouldn't have been so rash to you. I didn't even know you and I put I guy between us, it’s… College me would be so disappointed.” Julia laughs a little bit, and Vicki smiles an even smaller little bit, but her expression is still sad. She shrugs. “I just… I really, really liked him. A lot. And I got jealous and competitive, and I wish I could say I wouldn't do it again, but please. I’m _always_ competitive. Still, I’m really sorry.”

Julia lays a hand on her shoulder.

“I understand. If you’ll remember, I responded in kind. He just brings that out in people, it’s crazy.” And if she sounds bemused, it’s because she _is_. Bruce’s company is great when he graces someone with it, and on paper he’s a catch. But in real life, not so much. One of them should have seen it sooner.

Vicki laughs now. “So we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.” She smiles, and Vicki playfully tugs at her hair, making it tumble out of the bun down Julia’s shoulders, and she tries to swat her and they’re very close and again Julia can see how blue Vicki’s eyes are, and how her lashes are as red as her hair, and she can see Vicki is looking at her, and they stand on the kitchen looking at each other, fascinated like this is the first time they can see, until Vicki flicks her eyes from Julia’s own to her lips, and then –

Then they aren't looking at each other anymore, because they are on each other’s space, Julia’s hands on Vicki’s hair and Vicki’s on her shoulders, running down her back, and her lips are so soft. She tastes like cinnamon. Julia doesn't know where it’s from – maybe gum? – but when Vicki sighs and presses closer, she knows she doesn't care, not at all, she’s never cared about anything less on her _life_.

Julia can tell she’s blushing when the kiss breaks, but at least Vicki isn't much better.

“ _Chérie_ ,” she lays a hand softly on Vicki’s cheek. Then she coughs, straightening her clothes. “Maybe I should go?” to hell if she wants to, but Julia doesn't press. If Vicki regrets it…

But she only smiles, holding Julia’s hand to keep her there. Not that she had tried to leave. It had been a polite suggestion. “Why the rush?” she asks, raising her other hand to push a strand of hair from Julia’s eyes. “It’s late-”

“Early.”

“- _Late_ , haven’t gone to bed yet. And you shouldn't go out alone.”

“Didn't stop me before,” she points out, getting up and pulling Vicki with her, circling her waist with her arms.

“I was with you, you were safe.”

Julia laughs. It takes her a minute to recover.

“Are you saying I should sleep in your couch?” she lays her head on Vicki’s shoulder, because it looks like a comfortable place to do it.

Vicki snorts. “Yeah, the couch. Come on, let me introduce you to the _couch_.” she pulls Julia along by her hand.

She doesn't get introduced to the couch. At least not right away. But it’s okay, really.

Vicki’s bed turns out to be way better.

. . . .

After that, everything changes, only nothing does. Nothing that truly matters, at least. Gotham is still Gotham, Olivia Ortega is still Olivia Ortega and they are still Vicki and Julia. Except now they are Vicki _and_ Julia, and somehow that makes the rest feel much better.

Time goes on, and Julia’s relationship with her father only grows warmer. She starts going by Julia Pennyworth more often, and he starts taking days off more often too. He’s an easy man to get along with, and even when it feels like he isn't being wholly honest about things, she never doubts the truth that he loves her.

Both their relationships with Bruce get better, as well, based on the simple fact that neither of them has a relationship with him anymore. Vicki takes great delight on his expression when he understands they have one with each other, instead.

They keep going and they keep fighting and sometimes they mean it but they usually don’t, and when they do, they can always make up for it. Vicki becomes frustrated with editorial work and takes on field assignments. Julia climbs up the ladder of success, slowly but surely. Both hold the fight for printed news.

“You know,” Vicki starts one day over breakfast, between sips of coffee, when Julia’s legs are thrown over hers. “For the product of a hostile competition for a man’s affection, this could really be a lot worse.”

Julia chokes and flicks bits of toast at Vicki until she recovers.

Catwoman comes back, and they are both relieved for that. Batman and Robin save the day, several days.

Vicki and Julia have sex on the office.

Twice.

One day the skies will turn red, and what comes after that no one can say. But until then, they fit together, almost opposite but not quite. Once opponents, often still at odds, but.

A good match.

And a good team.

**Author's Note:**

> no one is probably ever going to read this, but if it happens, feedback of any kind is appreciated, since it's my first work ever. also, my  tumblr  is open to any questions or suggestions


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